In a bag that hangs on the back of my basement door, lives a group of refugees. They have lost their mates in the ravages of childhood play; some are left outside, others are stuffed into the toes of boots or down the side of the mattress. Some have lived in this bag for years. I steadfastly hope that I will someday discover their mates behind the bookshelf or in a forgotten box of toys.
Each time I do laundry, I line up the hopeful candidates. They are lonely. They've been surrounded by strangers for so long.
The reunions between long-separated partners are joyful, but unfortunately, often shortlived. I imagine that one day when my children are grown and I finally throw these orphan socks away, I'll find their mates in the one place I forgot to look, all gathered together, happy in their adoptive family.
What do you do with your lonely socks?